Two-Part Poem by Zyw Zywa

When he cried, I listened
I looked at him without

saying anything, I don't know what
time it was, whether it was busy

in the street, in what kind of room
we were, I didn't look or listen

past him, his words were
low and slow, like a bass

in my silence
and later

my questions sang
as a cello, along

with his story and my feelings
accompanied his grief

That's how we walked through the pain together
Nothing else